Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

 Link stared in horror as the armed travelers (?) approached the Master Sword's pedestal. 

There seemed to be eight of them, ages ranging from young boy to grown man. They were all armed to the teeth, and blonde, except one with a brunette head of curls. The tallest, with one eye, seemed to be entranced by the Great Deku Tree, taking tentative steps closer, as if worried that he’s hallucinating. The other travelers seem to be looking around, some gazes filled with awe, others, suspicion. 

One-eye stops, standing right in front of where the Master Sword would be. Thank Hylia, Link had enough sense to go ahead of the strangers and draw the Sword from its resting place. He had initially intended to tell the strangers to leave, that the Lost Woods was no place for travelers, but the group had plunged in with no hesitation, leaving Link shocked and wasting time just standing there, before he collected himself enough to follow. 
 

“Now what?” Link mutters to himself, hiding in one of the Great Deku Tree’s branches, the Master Sword glowing a bright blue, the way it does for Guardians, or Calamity Ganon. His thoughts are cut off by the Tree, as One-eye speaks. 

“Great Deku Tree?” One-eye breathes out, and the rest of the strangers pause their exploration of Korok Forest, and fix their attention to the Tree. 

“It is I, child.” 

“It has been...so long, Father.” 

Father? Who is this guy? And why is the stupid Tree talking to him? Why did the stupid forest let these people through, when it took Link multiple tries to find his way here, without getting lost in the stupid fog? He wanted answers, and he wanted them now. 

When he hears his name, he stops zoning out, suddenly hyper focused on the exchange between One-eye and the Tree. 

“ - looking for the hero, named Link? The Master Sword, she led us here.” 
 

“Yes, he is indeed here. I do not think it wise to force him into anything, however. The goddess knows that boy has suffered enough.” 

“Great Deku Tree, you have to understand. This is not a matter of choice. He has to come, by any means.” 
 

Come where? Force into what? He really shouldn't zone out anymore. Now, the part about the Sword had to have been a lie. The damned blade is in his hand, glowing blue, for Hylia’s sake. He briefly wonders what that must mean, before settling on a conclusion. The stupid travelers must be enemies of some kind. Of course. How did he not see it before? Link knew they were pissed after he killed Ganon, but he didn't think they would go so far as braving the Woods to get to him. Stupid Yiga. This was all just an elaborate lie, wasn't it? 

“Hey, guys? What's that thing up there glowing blue?” 

Shit. 

He has no choice now, but to fight them. 

A guy with a white cape tied around his neck steps forward, cornflower-colored eyes staring into his. 

“Hello? Who’s up there? Are you named Link?” 

Okay, judging by the way the Sacred Blade lit up like a Guardian laser beam is anything to go off of, these guys are gonna be real fun. Good. It's been a while since Link had a real challenge. 

 He grips the Sword tighter, taking out his Hylian Shield. He shouldn't need any special armor, but he downs a mighty elixir anyways, darting through the branches, as he dodges a boomerang. (Really? A boomerang?) 

He leaps from the branches, time slowing as he knocks three arrows to start, shooting at One-eye, then shooting at whoever’s in sight. He takes the sight of One-eye doubling over, and the cries of pain as a small win, as he unsheathes the Master Sword, standing in a wide, defensive position, ready to take them on. 

The kids he refused to shoot, (a kid with a blue tunic, and one with a four colored tunic) stare in awe, the blue-tunic kid grinning ear to ear. 

“Whoa. You're so badass...” 

Link suppresses an eye roll, his stoic knight persona settling into place, as the rest of the group straighten up, One-eye clutching his side, the side impaled by arrows. The first to attack, running at him with a snarl, is the guy with a pelt on his back. The other foreigners are either stunned, or still recovering from the arrow in their gut. He raises the Sword, feeling a slight tingle of heat on the handle, nothing he isn't used to. 

Pelt-guy attacks, striking Link’s blade with vicious force, prompting Link to place his free hand on the other end of the Sword, and push back, as Pelt-guy growls at him, pushing harder. Just as it seems that the stranger's blade is going to go straight into Link’s skull, Link pulls a quick maneuver that his father taught him, a move that has saved him time and time again. Instead of pushing back, he grabs Pelt-guy's wrist, and uses his momentum to practically throw him over his head, as Link ducks, rolling under where the guy's legs were. 

He barely has time to straighten up, before a guy with a long, royal blue scarf runs at him, jabbing upwards, like how Link was taught at the military. ‘Too easy,’  Link laughs in his head, before running past the Scarf-guy, who pauses in confusion, and Link takes the window of time to grab the end of his scarf, and wrap it around his neck, choking him for a few moments, before the Blue tunic-kid rushes him, and Link is forced to shove Scarf-guy into the ground. 

As Link tries to fight the kid, without really hurting him, Brown-hair joins in on the fun, looking scared and remorseful, while the kid is grinning, clearly enjoying himself. And, okay, he may have kicked the kid square in the chest. And the kid may or may not have been sent straight into the nearest tree. But it is all in self defense. These guys have to be enemies, why else would the Sacred Blade be lighting up so much?  
 

Link re-focuses on not mortally wounding the brunette, instead settling on a smack to the ribs with the flat of his blade.  
 

He rolls his eyes at the White cape-guy, and aims a beam of pure light energy at him, reeling back the Sword, and swinging it like a bat, the beam hitting the guy in the ribs, making him fall into a small puddle of water. 

Someone finally manages to land a hit on him, (but it doesn't really count!) from behind, slashing his sword and Link finally notices his smoking palm. 

 He drops the Master Sword, the palm of his good hand branded deeply with the lattice work on the Sword's hilt. The Sword managed to burn through the thick leather of his fingerless gloves, a second time. (He had Zelda fix the damage; the stupid Sword really didn't want to be pulled from its pedestal.) 

Link snaps out of it, subconsciously dodging a brutal slash from Pink-haired guy, and picking up the blade, Goddess be damned. 

He starts the familiar dance with Pinky, falling back on the good-old military machine inside of him. As he backflips over Pinky’s blade, time slows, and Link unleashes a flurry of small slashes and jabs. Pinky is unfazed, and keeps fighting, bloody and bruised. Link was starting to hate this guy, and, right when he finds an opening to deliver a mortal blow, he hears a voice yell. 

“STAND DOWN, LINK.” 

Shit. He really shouldn't fall back on his military training anymore. But, in his defense, why, oh why, did this scarf dude know how to yell across battlefields? His body moves on its own accord, stepping away, lowering his sword, like his Commander taught - beat into him, more like.

Pinky stops his relentless attacks, and groans, dropping to one knee, and wiping at the corner of his mouth, grimacing at the blood now smeared on his face.

But, as much as Link wants to break free of the command he was given, his vision starts to go fuzzy at the corners, black dots and white lines streaking and swimming across his vision.

Fuck. Not now. Really, Hylia? Not the time.

 He is conscious for enough time to see Scarf-guy with his hands cupped on the side of his mouth, feels the Master Sword slip from his seared, blistered grip, as it seems to fall in slow-motion, feels the familiar sensation of a memory taking hold, and his knees give way, falling to the grass, on his hands and knees. 

 - - -

“Stand down, Link. You did good.” 

Link looks up at his father, and grins, pleased with himself. He drops his wooden sword, and runs back to the house, excited to tell everyone about his latest conquest.

- - -

“Momma, did you see me?! I killed a monster! I killed it dead!” 

“Yes, I saw you. Nearly gave me a heart attack, kiddo.” 

Link mumbles a song under his breath, humming as he totters over to Aryll, and picks her up, grinning. The two-year old squeals in delight, her dark brown eyes glinting with joy at the sight of her older brother. 

“Aryll, I did it. I'm gonna be a knight, like Daddy.” 

- - - 

Link fights to keep his tears back, as the memory shifts. ‘Of course. How could I forget about my sister?’

- - -

“Stand down, Link! The Lynel’s dead!”

‘Huh. This is new,’ Link says to himself. ‘Never had two memories back-to-back.’

In the memory, Link is about 15, at Zora’s Domain. Mipha stares at him, concern in her eyes as Memory-Link sheaths his sword.

“Are…Link, are you feeling well? You can tell me if anything’s wrong.”

She pauses, then continues.

“I’m very sorry about your father. He was… kind. Brave. Loving.”

A beat passes, as Mipha sets a small hand on Link’s shoulder.

“I know it hurts. But he wouldn’t want you to close everyone out, Link.”

She’s right. And Link knows it. He offers her a small smile, and she smiles back.

- - -

"Stand down, Link. That's enough...for today."

He knows those words. He heard them for years. He watches 16 year old Link salute, then turn on his heel and march back to the barracks. Link knows what awaits him in those goddess-forsaken barracks. So he doesn't follow. Instead, he resists the pull of the memory, telling him to relive all the comments on his father, relive all the punches, relive all the scathing looks, relive his fellow soldiers pinning him down and jumping him. Link resists it, and the memory shifts. 

- - -

He opens his eyes, and finds himself in the same place, at a different time. 

10 year old Link is crying, blood and dirt crusted onto his sword arm, as Commander shoves him to the mud, then grips a fistful of his blonde hair, and pulls, hard.

"You worthless brat! Get up! You are the fucking hero, get up!"

He almost praises Hylia, as he feels the familiar sensation of the memory fading, regaining consciousness, to eight heroes standing over him. He can't see who's who yet, but makes out voices.

"You gotta admit, he's really cool."

"Uh, yeah? He literally sent me flying into a tree! Best. Concussion. Ever!"

"Um, guys? I think he's waking up."

Chapter Text

Warriors did not like this. Not one bit. 

Since being stranded in this Hyrule, he's been walking for days, almost killed (?) By fog; got an arrow to the gut, watched his friend get three arrows in his side, watched said friend cough up blood from the damage, got strangled by his own scarf, and made the new, albeit  murderous hero go into some sort of shock. 

He was starting to get just a tad bit angry at this new hero, as well. Why, in the name of Hylia, did this kid jump out of some sort of sacred tree, and promptly took out everyone except Legend, (though, the kid was getting there. If Warriors hadn't yelled at him...) 

He doesn't understand. This kid is troubled, that's for sure. 

Warriors zones back in, as they all gather around their assailant, Wind toeing the Link's side nervously, and when he gave no reaction, the sailor grins and beckons everyone over. 

"Come, look! This guy's face is pretty, but ugly, all at the same time!" 

The sailor flails his arms in the air, his dark eyes wide with admiration. 

Unable to resist a good look at the new hero, Warriors and the rest of the Chain step closer, eventually crowding him. 

Sky speaks up first, his voice careful and calm. 

"Well...he's certainly...unique." 

Legend snorts, and says it like it is. 

" Unique? This asshole's face has a bunch of burn scars everywhere! The entire left half of his face is covered in scars, Sky." 

"You gotta admit, he's  really  cool," Four pipes up, staring at the hero. 

"Uh,  yeah? He literally sent me flying into a tree! Best. Concussion. Ever!" 

Warriors sighs, Wind sending him a cheeky grin, before going back to gossiping with Four, whispering and pointing like children. Well, technically Wind  is  a kid, but... 

Before he can voice his thoughts on this newcomer, Hyrule chimes in, his voice quiet and concerned.  

"Um, guys? I think he's waking up." 

Thank the Goddess.  

- - - 

Link returned to consciousness, cold, wet, confused, and with a bunch of strangers surrounding him. That last part was new, but he's been there, done that on the very first day of his quest. Link decides that he very much does  not  like that, and immediately gets to his feet, his hand finding the Master Sword, and promptly gets burnt again, and drops the Sword, retching. 

The strangers pause, unsure of what to do, before Scarf-guy steps forward, his hands extended, as if to soothe Link. 

Abso-fucking-lutely not.  

"Don't - Don't touch me!" 

Link flinched horribly, and scrambles back, his electric blue eyes cloudy and wide, immediately getting into a subtle defensive stance, as Scarf-guy puts his hands up, a calm expression on his face. Like he's done this before. 

Stupid fucking blonde guy. Doesn't he know that there can only be one stupid blonde guy? And Link isn't giving up his spot anytime soon.   

As One-eye steps forward, his hands also raised in a surrendering gesture, Link steps three more steps away, and promptly begins retching again. Of course, he has nothing to throw up except the mighty elixir, but when has that ever stopped his stomach from trying?  

- - -  

Time had never seen a kid this bad in  years. The poor guy was retching at every small movement Warriors made. His scarring -  dear Hylia, the scarring. The way he seemed to be under control, yet ready to bolt any second. The kid fucking  fainted when Wars yelled at him. (Smart thinking, though, captain.) 

Time focuses on the task at hand, namely, getting the kid and calming him down. He really doesn’t want to use force, but, well... 

“Vet, Four. Take Wind and Hyrule... in there. I need you and Four to keep an eye on them. I’ll call you if things get complicated.” 

Legend eyes the small passage hidden between the Tree’s roots, and huffs, crossing his arms. Time fixes him with a warning stare, and the vet complies, grabbing Wind and Hyrule, Four trailing behind. As soon as they disappear into the passage, Time turns his attention to the new Hero, who is currently cornered by the rest of the Chain, as Sky approaches the discarded Master Sword. 

- - -

As soon as White Cape-guy takes a step towards that Sword, Link knows he’s going to pick it up. He's going to take it. And hell if Link’s gonna let him, not after everything he’s gone through for it. Link weighs his chances. He could take on one of them, maybe two, but three? Four? He had to admit, that was definitely going to push his limits. Link’s best chance is to grab the Sword, and teleport away.  

But, shit, he can’t, can he? If he did, he would be leaving Korok Forest to fend for itself. Link glances at the Sword, and his heart almost stops. Cape-guy is moments away from taking it, stealing it from Link. His lips twist into a snarl, and time slows. 

 
“No!” 

He lunged for the damned Sword, scooping it up successfully and using his momentum to carry himself into a roll, immediately standing up to face them, wielding the Sacred Blade like an extension of his arm. Link backs away slowly, fighting his stupid tears.  

“You, uh, might wanna…drop the Sword? That looks pretty…painful,” White Cape-guy says, his voice infuriatingly concerned and quiet, like he’s trying not to scare off a wounded animal. Dummy. Link knows very well that his palm is smoking right now. He just chooses not to care. After all, Link can’t just switch his Sacred Blade for a measly Knight’s Broadsword. The blade is still blindingly bright, meaning that there are still enemies around. That Link hasn’t finished the job. 

Pelt-guy steps forward, a snarl on his lips.  

“You heard him. Drop it. ” 

Goddess. Link tries to be civil. He really does. But this guy gets on his nerves. Bad. Link sneers right back, his eyes narrowing dangerously, and he raises the Sword, a silent warning. A challenge. One-eye seems to sense Link’s silent goading, and opens his mouth to speak, but never gets the chance. 

- - - 

Holy shit. Fuck this.  

Time curses every divine being he knows, as Twilight dashes into battle with the newest Hero, and the Hero reciprocates, nothing but a blue blur as the kid slows time, effortlessly landing hits that no regular hylian could dream of. Hell, this kid is landing hits that no mortal could think of, as the kid backflips once more, rushing towards the rancher, but never getting the chance to beat Twilight up. Sky and Warriors drag the new kid away, and Twilight is held in place by Time, as a firm hand clamps down on Twi’s shoulder. Twilight is breathing heavily, a small stream of blood flowing from his nose. 

“Time! Could use some - ugh - help over here!” 

Time curses under his breath, as his gaze lands on Warriors and Sky, as they take on the new Hero at the same time, and seem to be holding their own, if just barely. The kid is a whirlwind of chaos and destruction, kicking Sky in the chest, before immediately spinning to meet Warriors’ blade with his own. Time is torn, not wanting to let go of twilight, who is subtly straining against his grip, and also wanting to help Sky and Warriors. He sighs, resigning himself to his fate. 

“Legend! Get out here!” 

A muffled shout of joy comes from inside the Tree, and moments later, the vet is next to him, looking ready to beat someone (the new Link) up. Legend looks to the fight, then Time, then to the fight again, his expression wistful. 

“Please?"

“No.” 

“Get Twilight with Hyrule and Wind, now.”  

Legend rolls his eyes, but obeys anyway, dragging Twi into the Tree’s roots. Time’s attention is drawn back to the trio, as a small cry of alarm reaches his ears, and turns to find Warriors and Sky pinning the kid down. 

Hylia, this kid fought like hell.  

The new Link thrashes wildly, kicking and fighting the Heroes. Time all but runs over, his side still painful, despite the red potion Hyrule had shoved down his throat earlier. As Time kneels down, his knees getting soaked in a small puddle of water, (they seemed to be everywhere) he notices that the kid is screaming, but with no sound. Completely silent. Tears are streaming down the kid’s face, and Sky murmurs soothing words to him, looking pained.  

“Time. What should we do? He’s completely gone.” 

Warriors looks at the new Hero, a grim expression on his face. Time decides to just focus on calming the kid down, first. 

“Hey, Link? What’s wrong?” 

The kid’s vision seems to go cloudy, and his movements sluggish, and finally slow to a stop, eyes closed and breathing deep. 

Time hears the captain murmur the exact words that he’s thinking. 

“What the fuck, Hylia?” 

Chapter Text

“He’s obviously not in his right mind, Wars. Bring him to the bed. I’ll see what I can do.” 

Hyrule watches nervously as Time and Warriors place the Hero on the leaf bed. The Hero is damp, no doubt from the light drizzle of rain and the small puddles collecting water. Hyrule gently takes off the cerulean tunic, leaving him in an undershirt. 

The hero doesn’t stir, doesn’t shift, not even a small twitch of the fingers to let Hyrule know that he’s alive. Hyrule turns to glare at Time, who simply stares back, no emotion in his eye. 

‘Rule huffs under his breath, and places a warm, glowing hand to the Hero’s forehead, and recoils back, retracting his hand at the speed of light. 

Hylia, that hurt.  

This new Hero is far, far, beyond a simple ‘troubled.’ The backlash of healing regular injuries from the rest of the group is never this bad. The worst pain from healing an injury was from when Wind broke his leg, and hyrule only took a half of the pain from the sailor, as well as some emotional baggage that was quickly resolved with a conversation by the fire. 

“What? What’s wrong? I swear, if he’s hurt you again – “ 

Hyrule holds up a hand to silence the vet, and goes back to healing, bracing himself for whatever the new Hero has in store. 

As soon as he pours healing magic into the Hero, a burning pain claims the entire left side of his body, along with a more sinister sting of a malicious evil eating away at his body, down to the bone. Glimpses of people flit through his vision, swimming past his eyes, through his mind. A brush of blue feathers in the breeze, a snap, then a crack of thunder, a brotherly word of advice, a softly muttered prayer, the sharp crack of a bowstring being released, a cool fruit on a blazing hot day, the feeling of protection enveloping his senses, and finally, warm, yellow eyes. Their gaze makes Hyrule uncomfortable, like a missing piece snapping too hard into place. 

The eyes slowly fade into a whole person, a Zora girl, with silver jewelry and a warm, inviting touch. The backlash of pain also fades into a dull, forgettable throb. Thank Hylia for that. Hyrule didn’t know how much more he could take. Normally, the effects of healing are only a half of what the patient is feeling at the moment, but this... this felt like the entire burden, and then some. If this was only half of what the newest Hero is feeling right now... 

The building grief and guilt from the other memories of blurred faces and sensations peaked upon the blurry, muddled memory of the girl, as what Hyrule could only assume was her voice echoes around Hyrule’s skull, as an involuntary sob tears its way through his throat. 

He can hear the others talking to him, frantic and concerned. Hyrule tries to respond, to tell them that he’s fine, when the girl’s voice echoes in his head. The voice is kind enough, but distorted into a chorus, like multiple voices coming from all sides. 

Hyrule manages to make out the words, as the guilt welling up inside of him starts to become unbearable, and something like a memory (?) plays out before him. 

“No matter when, or how bad the wound, I hope you know...that I will always protect you.”  

Another broken cry escapes Hyrule’s lips, as the girl keeps talking, her voice still fractured in a way that only makes him feel worse. Like he should remember what she sounds like. 

The girl he saw before is sitting next to the new hero, but the hero looks younger, and none of the burn scars are visible. The girl looks nervously up at the Hero, a small smile on her delicate features, and another wave of guilt and memories. The sound of jewelry clinking together, the tingle of a wound mending, the gleam of a silver trident in the sun. Hyrule feels like he should remember this Zora, her amber eyes looking up at the Hero, as she clenches her hands together, nervousness written all over her face. 

“…you know... perhaps we could spend some time together.”  

Hyrule’s emotions are start churning wildly inside of him again, mostly grief and guilt, but pain and love, affection, gratefulness and sorrow, nostalgia and longing all wrapped up in one not-so-neat package. Hylia, is this what the new Hero feels every time he thinks of this Zora girl? 

The unbearable, searing pain returns, as the memory fades, and Hyrule’s senses come back to him, giving him enough time to see time holding him upright, see Warriors checking his pulse, see Twilight standing outside of a covered section of the Tree’s sanctuary, likely hiding the scene from the younger Heroes, feels the wet tears on his cheeks, before the sweet sensation of unconsciousness takes hold, and Hyrule slumps against Time, out like a light. 

During his sleep, Hyrule flits in and out of consciousness, catching snips of conversation and glimpses of worried faces, Legend’s being the most common. 

“ -  happened? Why is ‘Rule dead?! ” 

“ – not dead, sailor – “ 

“ -  new kid? When will he wake up? When will ‘Rule wake up?” 

“ – did all the Koroks go? I saw them hiding before but now they’re –“ 

“Time, I’m… I’m scared. What do we –“ 

Hyrule finally stops fighting the darkness, and succumbs, sinking into the bed of leaves. 

- - -

The traveler awakes to a smug, familiar voice. 

“Y'know, I was in a circus for a little while. I bet I could swallow that sword.”   

“No way. I call bullshit.” 

“Watch me.” 

Hyrule decides he does not want to watch Legend choke on the Master Sword, or watch Sky’s horrified expression when he finds out that the Sailor (?) was encouraging this. 

A quiet groan from him makes the vet stop juggling apples, and the sailor stop trying to balance on his head.

"'Rule! You're awake!"

Wind throws himself into Hyrule's arms, basically vibrating with excitement. Hyrule can't help the fond smile that creeps its way onto his lips, and ruffles the kid's sun-bleached hair.

The sailor then swaps his huge grin for a comically deep frown, poking Hyrule on the forehead.

"Asshole. I can't believe you. You got me stuck here with nothin' to do, except talk to the other asshole."

Legend, who was previously nodding along to Wind's rant, does a double take, and swats the kid on the head, earning a shit-eating grin. Wind does a terrible cartwheel away, cackling loudly.

"... okay. Anyways, how are you feeling? It's almost been two days now."

The traveler refrains from pointing out how soft Legend's being, and rasps out an answer, his dry throat screaming in protest.

"I'm fine. Where's the others?"

"Wars is with the ticking time bomb over there," Legend huffs out, jerking his head towards a section blocked off with two huge leaves, like a curtain.

"Time and Twilight went to "gather supplies." You know they're just being secretive, as usual."

"Four is down for the count, the guy basically passed out on his sleeping bag, and Sky saw that as an invitation to sleep, too. So now it's just us. Rejoice."

Hyrule sighs, making no attempt to move from the leaf bed, his sore body protesting every small movement. He feels unnaturally weak, despite the obvious whimsy and magic of the place. Seriously, where's all the fairies at?

 A smug grin forces its way onto Hyrule's face, as he mutters, loud enough for Wind to hear.

"So, vet. What was that about sword-swallowing, again?"

Chapter Text

Wind doesn’t know how to feel about this new guy. Okay, first, he was awesome. No denying that. When the guy backflipped from the tree and shot everyone, (except for himself and Four) Wind knew he wanted to impress the new Hero. Maybe even become friends. So, when the guy started going to town on his friends, and winning, it only solidified the need to be friends with this new Hero.  

Wind didn’t really know what happened after he was so rudely dragged away, but he did manage to catch a glimpse of the guy double-teaming Wars and Sky.  

Wars. And. Sky. The two best fighters in the Chain. Even Time has trouble sparring with Sky, and the new guy is taking them both on at the same time, right after he just battled with most of the Chain, and passed out. Wind will never let Wars live this down. Maybe this Hero’ll finally give the Captain a good humbling. 

After the initial excitement, he was cooped up in this… place for a few minutes. Or a few hours. It was hard to tell. Even having an extra gossip session with Four didn’t calm his racing heartbeat, still full of adrenaline and the itch to slice something in half. And of course, Legend wasn’t any fun either, sitting down next to a cooking pot, and starting a fire. 

Even putting braids in Four’s hair was getting boring, so Wind decided to go bother Hyrule instead. Before he could do that, though, Legend burst in, (when had he even left?) with a rancher in tow, the latter glaring at nothing in particular, a murderous gleam in his eyes. 

Legend and Four exchanged a glance, then Wind was being hauled off to a sectioned off chamber of the tree, which was hidden behind two gigantic korok leaves. The sailor recognizes the small hand on his shoulder as Four’s, and shrugs it off, whirling around angrily. 

He hated when the others treated him like this. Like he was a baby. Wind had every right to be in that room as much as the others –  

The sailor cuts off his thoughts, as the sound of boots on wood and the occasional grunt of pain approaches them, promptly sending wind and four dashing as quietly as they could to the entrance of their little hiding spot. 

Wind carefully, slowly, peels pack one korok leaf curtain, and four presses closer, the two Heroes equally as nosey.  

“Hyrule. Get over here, now. What’s the matter with this kid?” 

“He’s obviously not in his right mind, Wars. Bring him to the bed. I’ll see what I can do.” 

More shuffling, and legend is shoved into the room as well, scowling.  

Four grins and sending Wind a look that has the sailor holding back giggles. As soon as the scream of pain hits their ears, all of the recent lightheartedness vanishes, sizzling out like a drop of water on a scalding hot pan. The Heroes didn’t know how serious the situation really was, until they hear Time’s voice, scared out of his mind. The fact that whatever was happening outside was enough to make Time scared was… well, scary. 

“Hyrule? Hyrule, stay with me. Hyrule? No, come on . Don’t – “ 

“He’s unconscious, Time. He probably just needs to rest –“ 

A loud, broken sob cuts Wars off. The gut-wrenching sound quiets any hushed side conversations or hesitant whispers. Legend looks ready to murder someone, the vet’s violet eyes glowing with fury, as he mutters, the three heroes having formed a silent alliance. 

“That was… definitely ‘Rule.” 

A confused Four whispers back, still peeking through the curtains. 

“New guy’s lying down on the bed. Hyrule’s next to him, healing the guy, and… sobbing? ” 

Wind couldn’t help but drop to the ground, peering through the small gap between the floor and the leaves. He recognizes the closest pair of boots as Twi’s, as the rancher apparently stands guard outside of the room. Wind rolls his eyes and continues to snoop, finding the source of the quiet sobs, the sound so… raw . Like pure, unfiltered mourning. The thought of Hyrule being in so much pain makes the sailor’s stomach churn. As Wind looks around, he notices that he’s not the only one. Four is ghostly pale, and Legend is clenching and unclenching his shaking fists.  

‘Y’know, maybe it was a good idea to hide the full horror show from me,’ Wind thinks to himself, still looking at the sets of boots, as a blue scarf and boots walks up to the bed, where he assumes Time is sitting next to, or on. The sailor hears whispers, frantic and hushed.  

“Captain, do we really have to let ‘Rule go through...whatever this is?” 

A pained, quiet sigh reaches the sailor’s keen ears, and Wars answers, firmly, leaving no room for argument. 

“Can’t separate them. Too risky. The new kid and Hyrule seem connected somehow. I don’t think separating them would be the best course of action.” 

“Thought so. I just hate seeing him like - ‘Rule? Can you hear me? Hyrule?” 

Wind looks at Four, locking eyes with him, and mouthing the word ‘awake? ’ Four shrugs and goes back to watching the scene.

--- 

Sky charges in, ruining a perfectly balanced leaf tower that Wind and Legend had spent hours on, forced to 'watch over 'Rule,' (they both knew that it was just an excuse to keep them inside) the sudden burst of noise making a bed-ridden Hyrule jump. Roolie had been confined to the bed ever since the whole fiasco. The healer had insisted that he was fine, but the Old man wasn't having it. Come to think about it, no one was having it. Sure, Wind hadn't seen the events of yesterday, but he definitely heard them.

“Where’s the kid? I need - where’s the Master Sword?” 

The Skyloftian looked unusually distraught and stressed, trembling slightly, as his hand is clenched, white knuckled against The Master Sword’s hilt. 

“Uhh… right there? In your…hand?” Legend snarks, his eyebrows raised, and head tilted, clearly upset about the card-leaf tower, that is now in a heap on the floor. 

Sky frantically searches the whole ‘stomach,’ as the Vet calls it, before finally calming down, straightening up with the Sword in his hands. Wind hadn’t really gotten a good look at it, but now that it’s in the Chosen hero’s hands, he finally sees all the chips and dents in the sheath, the worn grip on the hilt, and as Sky unsheathes it, the sword actively molds back to an identical copy of the one currently on Sky’s back, chips and cracks in the blade glossing over, the blade actively brightening, centuries of experience on the battlefield and fighting evil incarnate erased. The new Hero’s history. Gone. Just like that. 

The Skyloftian looks visibly relieved, his usual kind, approachable demeanor settling back into place. Wind and Four exchange a glance, a promise to gossip soon. It's not that they’re trying to be nosey, or invade privacy, or… whatever, it’s just that, as the ‘child’ of the group, Wind tended to get left out on drama and conversations that were about the juicy stuff, like why hadn’t Wars or the new hero come out of the curtained off section? Why were Time and Twi being so closed off? Hell, Wind wasn't even told that Wolfie was Twilight all along! And Four seemed to be the only one who truly understands how goddess-damned frustrating it is to be treated like a child all the time. 

Sky exhales, sitting down against a wall, cradling this era’s Sword. 

“Oh, thank Hylia,” he says, then feels the other Heroes staring at him, all raised eyebrows and tilted heads. 

Sky grins sheepishly, a light dusting of pink crossing his cheeks, and starts to explain his absurd behavior.  

“I, uh, had a dream... it was more like a vision though...” 

The hero says, still embarrassed and red in the face, as his eyes dart around, taking in the bewildered expressions, though Legend’s was less confused, and more bored.  

“In the dream, uh, Fi... the Sword... it was dirty. Rusted. All the way up to...here.” 

“Hey! You said it couldn't ever get dirty, though. It's too sacred or whatever the hell.” 

Sky looks offended by the vet’s comment, then answers, mildly disgruntled. 

“ And you’re right. It shouldn't be possible to rust and age like that. I... I don't know how it would be possible.”     

Four steps up, carefully examining the blade. 

“Maybe it’s something to do with the monsters of this era? The Ganon of this era? Sometimes monsters can have corrosive blood.” 

Sky hums thoughtfully. “Maybe. We’ll have to ask the hero.” 

Chapter Text

Warriors sets the kid down on the small bed, eyeing the room. Wind, Legend and Four didn’t seem to mess it up too bad. Huh. Interesting. 

He pulls up a small stool, that looks like it was hand carved out of wood and branches, much like the beds and, really, all of the furniture here. Wars sits down at the unconscious Hero’s bedside, and sighs deeply, burying his face into his hands.  

Goddesses, he does not get paid enough for this. At all. 

With nothing to distract him, or keep him alert, exhaustion grips his body like a vice, and he does nothing to stop it, letting his eyes droop, and his guard down. 

The Captain barely rests, though. His body might be done with functioning for the day, but his mind definitely is not. He sighs, resigning himself to a long night. Warriors leans over to check the Hero’s temperature, feeling a forehead that is, praise Hylia, nice and cool.  

When he placed his hand on the kid’s forehead, though, there was a flinch. Not a terribly fearful one, like earlier, (he still felt guilty for that one) but it was still there. What had happened to this kid, that made him so aware, even in his sleep? Wars shakes his head, wondering out loud. 

“Who are you?” 

He lifts his head to look at the Hero, only to be met with a pair of unnervingly blue eyes. 

“Link, sir. I am the former Captain of The King Hyrule’s Royal Guard, now The Princess Zelda’s appointed Knight, sir.” 

Warriors is caught off guard with this one, he’ll admit. A fellow knight? Not only that, the Captain of the Royal Guard? The kid outranked him!  

Huh...If he’s the Princess’s Knight, not to mention a captain... 

“How old are you, kid?” 

“Sixteen, sir.” 

Warriors' heart dropped. Sixteen? It takes a minimum of four years to be considered for the position of Captain. But this kid was the Captain of the Royal Guard. Who knows how long it takes to be the leader of that. 

“And when did you join the army, Link?” 

“At ten, sir.” 

Okay, Wars was seriously debating whether to scream, cry, throw something, or maybe all three. He felt terrible, taking advantage of the confused state the kid was in. But, this might be the only chance to get some answers. 

Wars nods, and salutes out of habit. The kid – Link – scrambles to return the gesture, with a sharpness that could cut paper. 

“At ease, soldier.” 

“Thank you, Captain.” 

As if a spell was broken, the kid falls back into the bed, confused, troubled eyes shutting once more, like nothing happened. 

Warriors sighs once again, his head finding his hands, as he contemplates life for what feels like the billionth time today.   

Chapter Text

Link’s head was killing him. Seriously, how many more of these memories was he gonna get?  

He forces his eyes open, blinking away the remnants of a flashback to...his mom...patching up his...knee? He didn’t remember. At this point, he was done remembering. Goddess, the last time Link had all these memories...was a while ago, when he visited his father’s grave. Hylia, that had him in bed for days.  

The more he thought about it, the more he disliked the strange travelers. It couldn’t be a coincidence. He’s been having back-to-back memories, and he was pretty sure it was because of them. More specifically, One-eye. Blue-scarf, too. Something about them... it was familiar. Why? Link doesn’t want to know. At this rate, he’d have another flashback and realize that they’re his long lost cousins, or something. 

Link looks around, and realizes that the strangers took him to the Great Deku Tree’s Navel. Weird. Why would they bother? Whatever. 

He feels a nagging sense of guilt when he pulls the Slate from his hip, like a tight knot of ropes around his heart, unyielding, and all too familiar. He’s really going to leave Korok Forest? With these armed, dangerous travelers? Who knows what they could do, what they could destroy? 

Link’s finger hovers over the blue icon of the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab, where Purah was bound to be, if not Zelda. Zelda would figure this out. She had always been a natural at diffusing situations, and, well, she was the Princess. That had to count for something in the grand scheme of things, right?  

Link eventually decides against it. He was a capable Hylian. Sometimes. He’d just go out and talk to the strangers, preferably with a sword in his hand. Yeah. Okay. He could do that. 

Link swings his legs over the edge of the bed, pushing off with the help of a nearby stool. Okay, so maybe the White Cape-guy did more damage than he expected him to do. Again, not Link’s fault. The guy looked so docile. 

He puts on his boots, dusting the remaining dirt off of them, when he feels it.  

Malice. The slight burn in his throat, the cold feeling on the back of his neck, the way his scars started to tingle unpleasantly. The Blood Moon. It’s rising.  

Link hears scared voices, but pays them no mind, too blindsided by his own fear to pay attention to the short kid he knocks into on his way out, his mind laser focused on one thing, and one thing only. 

He doesn’t pay attention to the eight strangers staring at him. He doesn’t even realize that they’re there, or how they follow him outside, staring at the moon. 

It’s blood red.  

Link’s trance immediately breaks upon the sight of the moon drenched in blood. He stumbles, One-eye and Blue-scarf catching him, as he swallows, his mouth dry.  

“What’s going on? Hey, Link? What’s wrong?” 

Link doesn’t answer, too busy trying his best not to throw up right then and there. That moon can only mean one thing. And he’s not ready for it. Not ready for how the strangers set him down against a tree. And Link is definitely not ready for the memory that hist him like a wave of nausea, making the world go black. 

- 

Burning. The disgusting stench of smoke, fire slowly eating away at houses, towns, the very castle itself. Nothing was safe. Screams interrupted the radio silence of any sentient life attempting to communicate, to help, to try and survive. Screams of mothers holding their broken child, screams of children holding their broken mother. No one was safe. No life spared.  

The only sounds are fires raging, the telltale mechanical whirring of those  things , the occasional sound of the laser beam firing, and, of course, the screams. It makes Link want to throw up.  

But he can't. Simply can't. The cursed Blade rests heavily on his back, a not-so-silent burden, a promise, a stain on this Blade's sacred history. An unsightly blot on the otherwise pristine record of Heroes. A misfit. That's who Link truly is. He always was. But, he was born for this. For failure. Destiny chose him. He was Hylia’s Champion. The Sacred Blade's Master. The Princess's appointed Knight. The wielder of The Triforce of Courage. Link was all of this. But, most prominently, most importantly, Link was a failure. How, how, could he let this happen?  

Even now, as he sobs silently, forced to watch the destruction, forced to watch his destiny, forced to be a bystander in the ocean of pleas for help, for mercy, he cowers. He still flinches as a Guardian narrowly misses Zelda, the poor girl whimpering in fear, as Link drags her along, unfeeling, as he raises his battered shield once more, the blank expression on Link’s face beginning to crack, if only a fracture. He still feels the final SOS signal stop abruptly, the Slate abruptly going silent after the third dash. Who was that?  Daruk? Urbosa? Revali? Link knows it can't be Mipha. The girl was dead before Zelda and him even got to the castle. Link knows all his fellow Champions are dead. They were dead the moment they stepped foot in those Beasts. Ambushed, like the rest of Hyrule. If he were an actual Hero, Link would've been able to save them. He would've been able to save all of the lives lost, all the souls reaped by the Calamity Ganon. But, Link is no such Hero. He possesses none of the courage held by the Heroes of old. So, like the coward Link is, he keeps on running. Running away from the fight, the Princess stumbling to keep up, Link's grip on her forearm like a vice. 

He can't tell you how long they ran for, even if he tried. Link tries to block out the memory, the vision of Zelda sobbing in his arms, her tears, the filth on her once-pristine dress. It doesn't work. He's so very tired. 

When the stomping of mechanical legs reaches their ears, however, Link snaps out of it, willing away the tears in his eyes. They fall anyways, mixing with the downpour. The repeated mantra of  "Get the Princess to safety,"   resumes in his head, his body on autopilot, taking out Guardian Stalkers, and finally,  finally , reaching the path leading to Fort Hateno. They were saved. The fort had over 500 Soldiers to guard it, to hold under the Calamity Ganon's attacks. There just wasn't a way that the Fort had fallen.  

Link had never been more wrong. 

- 

Chapter Text

The Heroes had all settled down for the night, the small fire in the middle of the room casting a warm glow on their surroundings, and Time found himself able to finally relax, despite the looming absence of the Deku Tree’s presence. It was weird, how the Tree needed to gather its strength for so long. Whatever. It was probably nothing to worry about. 

Wind was telling one of his many stories about his Journey, how he managed to free some guy named ‘Tingle,’ which led to getting something called a ‘Pictobox.’ The kid had some weird side quests.  

Twilight was sitting next to Time, the rancher finding solace in how relaxed and happy everybody looked, despite the unease lingering in the air. Time tries to brush it off, to tell himself that it’s just the change of scenery and the new Hero, but the unnatural cold seeps through his facade, chilling him down to the bone. 

Then, the new kid bursts out of the curtains, looking clammy and pale, wearing an expression that tells everyone something isn’t right. 

The Hero knocks into Wind, who was pacing and pantomiming how to sail, sending the sailor tumbling to the ground. The new guy seems to be in some sort of trance, his eyes darting around nervously, but he’s not really seeing anything, judging by the way he vanishes to the mouth of the hollowed-out Tree, disappearing from sight. 

Of course, the vet speaks up first, always having a comment, or speaking his mind on anything that even mildly annoys him. 

“Huh. Must have been-”  

“Don’t you dare.” 

“-the wind.” 

Wind groans, flopping dramatically onto Warriors, who ignores him, getting to his feet, a concerned look on his face. Time internally screams, then gets up, taking the lead. He follows the Hero, and the rest of the Chain follows him. 

The group of Heroes are met with a harrowing scene. Time’s eye is drawn to the kid, who stands a few paces away, clutching his heart, his other hand braced against tree bark. The new guy is staring into the sky, his features contorted into what can only be described as pure fear, mixed with raw sadness. Time hears Sky’s sharp intake of breath, sees Wars tense beside him, when he sees it. 

The moon. It’s soaked in blood. And, suddenly, he's 11 again. Watching the Moon approach rapidly, threatening to crush the Clock Tower, burning bright and red, as he fumbles for his ocarina, his gaze dashing around, watching the citizens hold their loved ones and close their eyes, feeling the building heat on his skin, the wetness on his cheeks, as the world ends, and - No. Nope. This is real life now, and he has to focus.

Time rushes forward, Wars right behind him. They catch the new Link before he can collapse, setting the kid down against the tree. The dreamlike quality he had before is gone, replaced by a jittery panic. Time hates how Hyrule pales, how Legend looks away, how young they all look. 

Warriors says something to the kid, and gets no answer, only wide blue eyes with so much fear in them, so much suffering. Time tries not to flinch when he feels cold, small, slim fingers wrap around his wrist, clutching onto him like he’s a lifeline, but he’s not even sure the Hero even realizes it, as he watches the kid’s eyes roll back, and his head drop forward. More fainting, then. Sure. The hand around his wrist goes slack. Just amazing.

The Captain sits in shock for a moment, then tilts the poor kid’s head back, checking for any injuries, and subtly wiping away the tears leaking from the kid’s eyes. Goddess, Time feels like a little kid again, and he despises it. 

He can feel the Captain's eyes on him, feel the red glow of moonlight on his back, feel the wrongness in the air. He promptly ignores it, standing up to gaze right back at the crimson moon, silently cursing it out. He also ignores the rest of the Chain, that is staring at him like he’s lost an eye. And maybe he has. So what?

He doesn't react when Wars also gets to his feet, carrying the limp Hero, bridal style. Time sighs quietly, turning to meet Warriors' eyes. The Captain takes a step closer, his voice low, back turned to the rest of the group.

"I'll take him back. Then, we talk."

"Sure. About?"

"Whatever the hell's going on. With you, and with this new kid. Plus, how to get out of this cursed place."

Time resists the urge to choke himself, instead, he settles on a tilt of the head and a hum of agreement. He feels Twilight's eyes burning holes through the back of his head, and the rest of the Chain listening in, some discreet, some unabashedly staring. Time knows that they're listening. Does he care? No. Wind's got a pretty big mouth, and even keener ears, so it's bound to get out somehow.

Wars looks somewhat satisfied with his answer, though, so the Captain turns on his heel, marching back to the Tree, muttering about "this Hero needs to eat something."

His fate officially sealed, Time uses all his willpower to not yell 'fuck you, Hylia,' at the top of his lungs, and just...walks away, leaving six very confused Heroes to use their notes and piece everything together. Oh well. They can be smart sometimes. Emphasis on the sometimes. Whatever. 

He finds a secluded part of the forest, and sits down, his back against a tree. Time curls his knees to his chest, resting his head on them, and closing his eyes. He resists the pull to check if his ocarina's still in his bag, and lets sleep get the better of him, drifting away under a red, sinister moon.

Chapter Text

"Listen up. If I don't have my own space in the next two seconds, someone is getting hurt."

Blue makes a sound between a groan and a snarl, then tacks on, like an afterthought. 

"Don't let it be you."

Vio rolls his eyes, ready to retort, when Green tries to calm them both, to no avail.

"Okay, alright. We kinda do need to split. Like, now."

Four raps his knuckles against his temple, a rare, deep frown on his face.

"Quiet down. I'm trying to focus. Unlike any of you."

Blue huffs, clearly offended. 

"Well, maybe if we fucking split - !"

"Shut up!"

"Guys, can we just -"

"Well, we could always -"

"Shut the fuck up! All of you!"

Well, shit. He said that out loud, didn't he? Four slaps a hand over his mouth immediately after, his eyes wide, as Sky, Sky, of all people, sits up, rubbing his eyes and blinking. 'Are you kidding me!?' Four internally yells at the Colors. He gets no response. Typical.

He tries to look normal, but it clearly doesn't work. Judging by the way Sky makes a face at him? Yeah, he's done for. Four tries to ignore the other Hero, failing miserably. The guy gets up, crossing the room. He's surprisingly nimble, stepping around and through the five Heroes sprawled around on the floor. (Warriors offered to look over the new guy, so, yeah.)

"Something wrong? I heard yelling."

Four shakes his head, hoping that the smile on his face actually looks like a smile. It was a stretch to hope for. Nevertheless, Sky sits down next to him, crossing his legs and stretching lazily. 

"Hmm. Okay. I can take it from here, Four. You deserve some rest, yeah? I'm already up, anyways."

Goddess, sleep sounds so good right now. Time to convene with the council. "Sleep. Yes or no?"

As always, Vio immediately shoots down the answer, with logic and reasoning, yes, they need sleep, no, they're not gonna get it unless they split, shut it Blue, it's just a fact, blah, blah, blah. Four loves Vio, he really does, but...yeah.

So far, only Red has voted for sleep, and Blue keeps on mimicking Green, plus, Vio won't shut up!

Four seriously debates if he feels safe enough to split right now. An indigo reply quickly shuts that down, though. It'll have to wait till morning. Too much darkness. Too many shadows.

"Whatever, Green. We've been over this. I only stabbed you to - "

"Yeah, but did you really have to? No!"

He tries to block out the Colors incessant bickering, instead, Four concentrates on the sound of Sky's voice, soft and calm, like he's telling a secret.

" -Not alone, Four. This place gives me the chills too. I can't wait till we get out of here. Fi's acting weird, she won't talk to me. Ever since I had that dream of her, it's like she's...mourning? I don't know why, or who she would be mourning, but it's definitely put some sort of damper on her," Sky mutters, holding the Sword on his lap.

Four nods, not trusting himself enough to speak. Hylia, this headache hurt.

Sky glances up, then continues.

"I just...I've been trying to figure out why the new Hero is so distrustful. He looks at Time and Warriors, and I'll think, 'Okay, he's just intimidated. Most Hylians are.' But - But then he keeps fainting, or attacking them, even when there's nothing to attack. And, with Fi, no less. You remember, during a spar, I accidentally raised her against Twi? It was only for a second, but..."

He trails off, apparently lost in thought.

"I just... I hope he knows that we won't hurt him. I think he's been hurt enough. It's our job to make sure he knows that. But how...?"

Chapter Text

When Link wakes up from his own personal hell, he forms a plan. A shoddy one, sure, but still a plan. It goes something like this.

One, take out Scarf-guy. That should be easy enough. Two, find his Slate. He's pretty sure it's somewhere in the Forest. Somewhere. Three, lead the rest of the strangers into the Lost Woods. Link still has no idea how they got in, but he'd bet good rupees on it being pure luck. If not, he's not so sure his ego could take that. Four, teleport to the Lab, get Zelda, teleport back, and pray that the strangers haven't enraged any ancient spirits. Yeah. He can do this. 

It's been a good thirty minutes since Link woke up, and Scarf-guy is none the wiser, still watching Link sleep. What a creep. Anyways, time to initiate phase one. It'll be a bit messy with nothing but his bare hands, but he’s fully healed now. More or less.

Link exhales slowly, steeling himself for the fight to come. He's settled on strangulation. Not to kill, but...knock out for a while. Very different from killing. Link cracks an eye open, delighted to see Scarf-guy sleeping peacefully. Such a heartwarming sight. Perfect for strangling. He sits up, completely silent, then slinks over to the corner with the Master Sword propped up against the footboard of the bed. Well. This makes things easier. 

Link fixes the blade to his back, standing up. He is met with a horrible fate. Scarf-guy is very much awake, and very much staring at him. Shit.

"Link, I need you to - mmph!?"

Yeah, nope. Absolutely not. Link lunged forward, tackling the guy to the floor. He is now in the process of knocking him out. Simple.

He prefers not to look at Scarf-guy, with the watering eyes, and the choked gasps, blah blah. Link finds it off-putting. Just don't ask him why.

See, Link really thought this was one of his more quick and quiet dispatches. He was proved wrong about ten seconds later, when a pair of strong hands wrenched him off of Scarf-guy. Ugh. The guy was just about to knock out, too. Link doesn't know when he started shaking, or when the ringing in his ears started, but it just ramped up. Like, a lot. 

So, when he sees One-eye kneel beside him, Brown-hair checking Scarf-guy's pulse, and multiple hands holding him down, Link does the only sensible thing. He grips the nearest wrist, and twists. Real hard. Once he feels the crack, and the hands on him go slack, Link rolls to the side, dodging One-eye, and absolutely books it.

He sprints past Blue-tunic, and, what!? There's now four extras?! That's absolutely cheating. Whatever. 

Link reaches the tree from last night, and...nope. Nothing. Fuck. Those bastards. They must've - yep.

"Looking for something?"

Link whips around, simultaneously pulling the Sword from his back, in one fluid movement. The blade is burning bright, and burning his palm. Again. He doesn't care. All he cares about is finding that smug-ass voice, and stabbing it, right in the back.

Just as he suspected, the one with no pants has the Slate, toying with it in a way that makes Link’s blood boil. Before he can slice this piece of shit into many pieces, Cape-guy steps forward, his hands raised in a surrendering gesture. The jerk looks too calm for his own good.

"Listen, we mean no harm. Seriously! I promise. If we could just talk -"

Link shuts this whole...thing down immediately. Nothing shuts a Hylian up better than a sword to the face. It's a tried and true method, Link’s favorite. 

Unfortunately, Cape-guy seems to anticipate this, and sidesteps, grabbing Link's wrist. How rude. Additionally, the pressure Cape-guy puts on his wrist forces him to drop the sword, a pained noise escaping his lips. Link ignores the burning of his palm, instead, using his free hand to grab at the Slate, only to be yanked back by the stupid Cape-guy! Seriously, this was sucking real hard.

"Link, you attack because you don't want to deal with your feelings, right? So let me help!"

Wow. Goddess. Link hates how this guy read him like a book. He feels like the air in his lungs got squeezed out of him, and he looks at Cape-guy like he’s evil incarnate. Still. Link doesn't need him. Link doesn't need anyone.

The guy is still holding his wrists, still looking at him with wide, pleading eyes, and Link almost gives in. Almost. He rips his wrist from Cape-guy's grasp, and side-hops the Blue-tunic kid hurtling towards him. The familiar dance with time starts, as his surroundings slow to a crawl. Link scoops up the blade, and grabs the Slate, putting as much distance between the strangers and himself as possible. 

The scalding heat of the blade in his hand felt like a punishment. And maybe, Link deserved it. He was running. A Hero never runs. The pain blurred the edge. But it didn't numb the center. That part was still alive, pulsing with guilt and shame. 

Once he reaches the hollowed-out tree trunk, he stops running, gasping for air, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Link wipes at his eyes, cursing at the wetness of them. Why had Cape-guy affected him so much? Why did all of those bastards make him feel?  Link continues walking through the fog, ignoring the sudden tightness in his chest. He ignores the tears blurring his vision, the way his breathing speeds up despite his slow walking pace. Link doesn't even realize he's leaning against a twisted tree until his knees give out, and he crumples to the grass, hyperventilating.

There's a sinking feeling in his stomach, as Link curls up his knees to his chest, hugging them as tight as possible. He's gasping for air now, a pitiful, ragged sound. He can't breathe. Is he dying? He has to be dying. He has to leave. Why can't he leave? He's frozen to the spot. Leave. Get out of here. The nausea is overwhelming. The Woods are spinning now. It feels like someone's sewn up his lungs and throat. Link feels unbearably hot and cold at the same time. His heart is racing. He's sobbing. Fully sobbing. His stomach is tying itself into knots. He still can't breathe. He needs fresh air. Right now. Why can't he breathe? He's covered in sweat. His hands are shaking. He has to leave. Why won't his hands work? He has to leave. Go. Run. Take Zelda and run. The Malice hurts. Everything hurts. If only he had the Slate. He'd send Zelda straight to Hateno, and - The Slate. He has the Slate.

He pulls the Sheikah Slate from his hip, and immediately taps the Lab's glowing blue icon. Link can hear the travelers getting closer, so he confirms his destination, ignoring the overwhelming regret pooling in his stomach, as he dissolves into strings of blue light.

- - - 

When Link arrives at the Hateno Lab, he steps forward, pushing open the rough wooden doors. He blinks away the remaining tears rapidly as everyone inside freezes. Link sways on his feet once, like a drunkard, before promptly collapsing. As someone hoists him up into a chair, Link wills the black dots out of his vision, trying to focus on Purah's face.

"Linky!? Hey, what's going on?!"

He feels tiny hands wipe at his cheeks, then dry themselves on his tunic. 

"Link? Oh, oh dear. What's wrong, my knight? You've been gone for days now."

Zelda. Okay, he can work with this. "Strangers. Korok Forest. Had to...fight," Link signs, his voice failing him. He'd much rather not say anything right now, but, well. 

"Okay. Do you need a moment? Just breathe, Link. We'll work through this. We'll get past this. Together."

Link nods once, trying to copy her exaggerated breaths. She was right. Those strangers can wait. Zelda'll have answers. She always does.

Chapter Text

In all of his years of adventuring, Legend had never met an asshole quite as assholey as this idiot. He'd already been pushing it when he wounded everyone, (and their egos) but now, this guy left Warriors with dark bruises on his throat, Twilight with a broken wrist, and everyone else stranded in these creepy-ass woods. Rejoice.

And, okay, this jerk might have some issues, but everyone does. Absolutely, positively, no reason to be moving the way he is. None. Like, 'Oh, let me just perform attempted murder, then faint for no fucking reason! Hooray!' 

So, when Legend found the guy's little...device thingy, he had every right to swipe it. Showed it off to 'Rule and Wind, accidentally made a tiny crack in the corner, you know. Normal stuff. No reason for this kid to run off into the woods. Next, came the terrifying maze of trees that looked like failed Sheikah experiments, and hearing the idiot sob his unnervingly blue eyes out. That part actually kinda made Legend feel bad. Kinda.

Then, the guy had the nerve to disappear. Just disappear. And Legend would bet twenty rupees and a fairy that it had something to do with the device. 

Now, as the Chain follows Time through the Woods, he can't help but curse Hylia. If Legend has to spend one more night in that stupid Tree, someone's gonna get it. 

"Uhh, Old Man? What do we do now? The Hero's gone!"

"I know that, Wind. We're leaving today. Just going back to the Forest to gather our stuff."

"Fuck yeah! No more crappy trees!"

"Language."

- - - 

When the Chain makes it out, Legend is sure he knows what exhaustion is. He is proved wrong seconds later, when all he can see is trees. More stupid trees. Thank Hylia that they weren't nightmare-inducing trees, but...still.

Thirty minutes later, the dumbass trees start to clear out, and - praise the Goddess - A... civilization!...of some sort. This Hyrule just had...eccentric decor taste. Legend lives with Ravio, for Hylia’s sake. Nothing he can't handle. As long as there's beds, he won't complain....maybe.

- - - 

Link sits on one of the Stable's rickety stools, waiting for the strangers. He'd calmed down enough to clear his head, and think straight again. These men weren't dumb, they'd come looking for him sooner or later. The only thing about them that Link can't figure out is why. Why were they so set on finding him? They aren't Yiga, or he'd be dead already. 

He's dressed in a simple set of Soldier's Armor, so he can spy on them from up close. No need to be hiding in trees and stuff. Right when Link starts to wonder if they even made it out of the Woods, a smooth tenor jostles him out of his thoughts. Scarf-guy. Of course. Link picks up a copy of the newspaper, pretending to be invested in the rumors, while eavesdropping.

"We’ll take four beds, please."

"Sure! And when would you like me to wake you?"

"Early in the morning, thanks."

Link stops paying attention, looking away as Kish takes the rupees, and - Goddesses. Link has to stop himself from jumping ten feet into the air. Blue-tunic is standing about half a centimeter away, breathing down Link’s neck.

"Whatcha readin'? Is it good? I wanna see it. Does it have a funny part?"

One-eye drags the kid away, like it's second nature. Blue-tunic just cackles loudly and skips over to Scarf-guy, running circles around the tired-looking older one. Link decides to leave, interrupting One-eye's apology. And does he care? No. No, he doesn't. He walks up to Kish, and decides to give him the rundown, just incase the strangers decide to head towards Hyrule Field. 

"Hey, Kish?"

The stablemaster doesn't miss a beat, immediately signing back.

"What's going on, Link? Wanna rent a bed?"

"No, no. You've probably noticed by now, but those strangers aren't from around here. With the Blood Moon happening, please keep them away from the Castle and the Field. They probably have no idea how dangerous it is."

"Sure thing, Hero!"

"Oh, and if anyone asks, say the Hero's dead. I still don't know if they're trustworthy."

"Of course, Soldier."

Kish winks, before heading back to the front of the Stable. Link glances over his shoulder once, before walking out, to the back. Just to make sure, he looks around, before teleporting back to Hateno, to get a good night's rest. Link's gonna be fighting a shit-load of Guardians tomorrow. 

Chapter Text

The tell-tale whir of gears and screws is nothing but background noise in Link’s ears by now, as he stalks a Guardian Stalker. The hunter has become the player...or something like that. Everything was going unnaturally amazing so far. The Castle wasn't too monster infested, and once he got into the groove, the Guardians weren't so bad. Link only almost died like, three times. He made sure to enable all the Champion's Abilities before teleporting to the hell that is Hyrule Castle, so this'll be a walk in the park.

The machine stood no chance. A few parries, a few hacked off legs, and goodbye Guardian. He takes out his Slate to keep track of which ones he already killed, when he hears voices. Eight of them. Fucking hell. Link uses the scope feature to check the roads, and - yep. The dumbasses are on Orsedd Bridge, heading straight for imminent death. These guys can fight, sure, but no way in any universe will they be able to take on Hyrule Field. Even now, he can hear them from near the Castle Town Watchtower.

"Whoa! This place looks terrible! Why isn't the Hero fixing the Castle? Isn't that his job?"

Ouch. Okay, fine. The Castle is looking a little rough, but Blue-tunic needs some manners, geez. Link uses the scope again, just to make sure - oh. How amazing. A Stalker's on the warpath for them. Any second now...Aaaand...

"What the fuck is that!?"

Yup. There's his cue. Link whistles for Epona, and gallops towards them. The strangers seem to be fighting back...sort of. When he gets close enough, Link kicks off the horse, into the air, pulling out his bow and ancient arrows. He really didn't want to be fighting alongside these guys. Best to end it quick and easy. He fires, all three arrows hitting their mark perfectly, stunning the Guardian...but not killing it? Interesting.

Link drops next to Blue-tunic, who is looking up at him, starry-eyed and grinning. He unsheathes the Master Sword, paying no mind to the collective shouts of surprise, instead, exhaling slowly, and calming his nerves for a split second, then he races towards the machine, taking out one of it's legs in three strikes. He barely registers the Malice that pours from the metal, as he realizes that one of the idiots is trying to join in. He plants a kick on Scarf-guy's chest, sending him backwards with an outraged noise. Sorry, buddy. It was necessary if he didn't want to be electrocuted. With a snap of Link’s fingers, lightning pours from the sky, surely a fatal blow....nope. He waits for the red line to be trained on his forehead, but, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, he turns to see the target honing in on One-eye's chest. Shit.

The guy just stands there, stunned, looking at the death marker. Blue-tunic is about to poke it, when Link shoves him back, raising the Hylian Shield to parry, just in time. He has a brief thought about how he did this for Zelda once, before mentally shaking himself. Why wasn't this stupid thing dead yet?! Link does the universal sign for 'Get the fuck out of here,' which is a super gentle, very nice shove towards the forest next to them.

Link takes out a Royal Bow and shoots two ancient arrows into the Stalker's eye, then takes out two more of it's legs. When it's stunned, he takes a few seconds to heal up, as he chugs a fairy tonic, then glancing behind his shoulder to see if the strangers had ran for their lives yet. Thank Hylia, they took shelter on the outskirts of the nearby Applean Forest, hidden, but still watching.

When the Guardian Stalker finally explodes in a shower of Malice and gears, Link makes a mental note to have a talk with Kish later, as he sees the assholes carefully emerge from the forest. He really doesn't care at this point, so he collapses onto the grass, whistling for Epona.

As she gallops over, he wipes the sweat from his brow, getting up to treat her for putting up with him. As he feeds her an apple, Link almost jumps ten feet into the air, again, as Blue-tunic fucking materializes next to him, patting his horse. Link starts to yank the kid away, (he really does not give a fuck) when he notices One-eye and the gang staring at him, like he actually just threatened to kill them all, when it was very much the opposite, really. 

"Look," One-eye begins his shpeal, and Link automatically tunes him out, continuing to feed Epona, while Pelt-guy glares daggers into his head. What's wrong with that guy? If One-eye notices his disinterest, he doesn't react, continuing his bullshit.

"I know we got off on the wrong foot, Link, but just give us a chance. We know how hard it is to be a Hero, because we are Heroes."

Pause. What? Link’s entire body stiffens, and he freezes in place. These guys. Are Heroes? Even though the trees don't sway, a warm, gentle breeze envelops him, blowing through his hair, and a beam of sunlight illuminates his face as he closes his eyes, trying to listen for answers. He feels the barely-there graze of an invisible hand tracing ancient scars, familiar as the silence after war. Hylia herself confirms the truth. 

Link sighs quietly, his hands dropping from Epona's reins. He opens his eyes again to get a good look at One-eye. Now that he's seeing this guy, he kinda does look like a Hero...wait...doesn't Link have a mask that matches the markings on One-eye's face? Oh well. He'll check later. Right now, he needs to find out why the hell that Stalker was so determined to be difficult. 

- - -

As the Chain watches the guy poke around in the machine's remains, the vet is the first to say anything after...whatever that was.

"...ten rupees says he's a God."

Warriors shoots a glare at him, getting a sneer in response. Typical. Twilight tears his gaze from the kid, and turns to face the Old Man instead. Time is also watching the Hero, looking slightly pale, and with a thoughtful, yet just barely unsettled look in his eye, like someone who braved a cursed wood, and left a part of themselves behind. Twi decides to nudge him, to see what's going on in his head.

"What're you thinking 'bout?

"...just...thinking."

Twilight watches as Time scans the view of crumbling ruins, decaying machines, and rusted weapons. Whatever happened here must've been horrific. But, it also looks old. Decades upon decades old. A flicker of realization crosses Twi's mind, as he surveys the Castle. This Kingdom had fallen. There's no other explanation for the lack of people, the overgrown wilderness, the abundance of ruins and broken-down wagons. The very air was thick with memory, filled with the hush of places long mourned, and tainted with the scent of desperate prayers.

However, if the Kingdom fell, where was the Hero? Did they mess up? Did they curse this kid, leaving him to clean up, while they vanished into legend? 

- - -

Legend and Hyrule sit side-by-side, watching the new kid frolic in the grass. He still thinks that the guy is a God. The jerk had this whole, 'moment with nature' thing, with nonexistent wind in his long-ass hair, the only ray of sun on his face...like, ew. Who does he think he is? And, don't get Legend started on how this idiot took down a huge metal spider thing that shoots deadly lasers like he did it for breakfast. Now it makes sense that the guy ran through the Chain like he knew all their weaknesses. 

"Hey, 'Rule?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you like the homicidal maniac?"

Hyrule gives him a look, before responding. 

"If you mean the new Link, sure. He's pretty cool. He probably just has some sort of trauma or trust issues. Once we get past that...you're not paying attention, are you?"

Legend peeps at the cricket cupped in his hand, a carefree grin on his face.

"Nope. But check it out. A bug."

"Yeah, whatever......lemme see."

- - -

Chapter Text

As Sky watches the Sailor purposely annoy the new Hero, he swears that the new Link can communicate with Hylia. The Skyloftian watches as he looks up at the blue canvas of the atmosphere, muttering a short prayer of patience. No one else might notice, but Sky does. He always cares for the tiny details that make up who a person is. And when the Hero gets a blessing in the shape of a white-blue flower petal landing on his shoulder, he doesn't even realize it, brushing it off, and continuing to ignore the eight other Heroes who follow him.

"Helloooo? Are ya gonna answer me? I said, are - !"

Wind is silenced by the Captain's hand over his mouth, then a high-pitched shriek is heard, and Wars is wiping his palm on Legend's shoulder.

"Eww! The brat licked me!"

This, of course, sends the vet into a panic, frantically wiping his shoulder on the now-complaining Warriors. The Sailor just cackles at his signature ear-splitting volume, hiding behind Time. The Old Man looks exasperated, as he plucks Wind off of him, and starts to give one of his motivational speeches.

"Look, I know this situation isn't the best, but this isn't the first storm we've weathered, and it won't be the last. You all - "

Time’s eye snaps up to the Hero, who is looking strangely relaxed, the reins in his grip slack. It's not until he starts to slip to the side, does Sky put the pieces together. The Skyloftian just barely saves him from cracking his skull open on the dirt, spooking the mare away in the process. 

When everyone realizes what happened, they all gather around the Hero and Sky, the latter laying him down in a bed of grass. Hyrule kneels down, checking for any hidden injuries.

"He's completely healthy. He's just...in some sort of...trance, maybe a coma? No idea why."

The healer seems mildly frustrated with himself, in the way he digs his fingernails into his palm, how he blinks harder than normal.

Time sighs, looking up at the looming rainclouds.

"Guess we'll just have to wait until the kid wakes up. Make camp, wait out the rain."

"You could even say...it's like..." the vet begins, a smirk creeping across his face as he eyes the Old Man. 

"Sorta like...weathering the storm...."

Legend pauses for a few seconds, then bursts into smug laughter, Wind cackling along with him, as Time throws up his hands in surrender, turning away to find some tree and sit down, but Sky catches the tiny twitch in the corner of his mouth.

- - - 

Link flinches once again, as the crack of thunder splits the sound of his mother's soothing hums. The storm was relentless, slamming against the glass, howling at him, searching for any crack to seep through.

His dad holds him tight as they sit together, rocking back and forth. The blinding white of lightning held the night still for a moment, like the world had forgotten to breathe. A second later, the voice of thunder shook the windows, deep and angry, like the sky had something to say. Link sniffles, wiping the tears from his rosy cheeks.

"Y'know, kiddo, storms pass. They always do. You gotta be brave for mommy, yeah?"

Link nods to his mom's words, looking over at her, watching as she rubs her round belly and closes her eyes. The next clap of sound threatens to make the tears flow again, so he hugs his dad as tight as he can, whimpering.

"Link," dad says, gently standing up, and making his way to the front door. He sits down on the porch rocking chair, watching the heavy downpour. 

"Have you ever heard about 'weathering the storm?'"

Link quickly shakes his head, looking up at his father with eyes that wordlessly beg to go back inside. His father just smoothes his unruly gold locks down, and chuckles warmly.

"Well, I'll let you in on a little secret." He pauses, looking back out at the lightning, his dark blue eyes softening ever so slightly, as if contemplating how to find peace in all this noise. 

"The thing about storms is, they show you what's worth holding on to. Everything else, it just washes away. I've watched lightning light up this old house, and I've watched you grow up in it. We've seen our fair share of storms - some louder, some longer - but the roof always held, and we always came out stronger."

Link’s dad rocks him back and forth, leaning in, like he's about to tell him something top secret.

"Remember, the strongest trees are the ones that learned how to bend, not break. You don't need to be fearless, Link. Just be steady. That's what weathering the storm is all about."

- - -

Chapter Text

At roughly three a.m., the Hero bolts upright, chest heaving, breath ragged. Time doesn’t flinch, only grateful that night’s shadows conceal him - the boy doesn’t see his quiet vigil. When the panic fades and the kid settles, Time’s gaze shifts once more to the decimated Castle, and the corroded spider-shaped war machines littering the landscape.

The rain has picked up, no longer a gentle drizzle, but a cold, insistent downpour that dulls the edges of sound and movement. Time sits still, eye fixed on nothing, lost in the blur of his thoughts and the ever-present ache in his bones. The kind of ache that settles in deep, like regret. He doesn’t immediately realize the Hero is gone.

It’s only when a flash of a blue tunic catches at the edge of his vision, a streak too vivid for this gray landscape, that he jolts back into awareness. He exhales through his nose, weary but unsurprised. The kid is always moving, always chasing something unseen. And Time, always following.

He stands slowly, feeling the cold settle deeper into him as the rain soaks through layers of cloth and armor. His boots squelch slightly in the mud. Water trickles down his neck. He doesn’t complain. He just walks forward, trailing the faint color ahead.

Time doesn’t know how long he’s been following the kid. Could’ve been minutes. Could’ve been hours. All he knows is that it’s been pretty Goddess-damned long, long enough for his legs to ache and the rain to soak him clear through. The Hero doesn’t seem to care. He moves with that particular kind of desperation, one Time recognizes all too well. Not running toward anything. Just moving for the sake of not standing still. Because standing still means your mind is free to think as much as it wants, and ...well, sometimes that’s the worst thing it do.

He’s seen that aimless wandering before. He’s lived it.

Eventually, the boy comes to a stop at what’s left of a once-grand platform, weather-beaten and half-swallowed by trees. Something important, in a life long buried beneath ash and ruin. The Hero hauls himself up onto it like someone dragging their own body out of water. Like he’s drowning in something Time can’t pull him from.

With a slow breath, Time follows, boots hushed against stone, as he climbs the broken steps. Each one creaks beneath him, as if the platform itself is reluctant to bear witness to this moment. And when he finally reaches the top, he stops cold.

It hits him again, sharp and inevitable. That same old heartbreak that’s carved itself deep into his ribs. It’s the billionth time this week, and it still cuts like the first.

The Hero is hunched against a crumbling pillar, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around himself like he’s trying to keep from unraveling. His whole frame trembles with sobs, silent, wrenching things that shake his shoulders and bow his head. His hair is plastered to his face, tangled and soaked, hiding his eyes, but not the pain.

Time doesn’t need to hear the question to know what it is.

The kid’s staring up at the Castle, or, what’s left of it, its jagged silhouette clawing at the stormy sky. There’s something hollow and raw in the way he looks at it, something that asks: Why?

Why this? Why now? Why me?

Time has asked those questions before. And maybe that’s why this hurts so damn much. Because he knows the answers don’t come.

They just echo.

Time doesn’t say anything right away. He just watches, letting the rain speak for them both, tapping gently on stone and armor and sorrow.

He wishes he could offer something, but none of it would land right now. Not with the kid like this, small and trembling in the shadow of his ruined Kingdom. 

So Time does the only thing he can.

He walks forward, slow and steady, until he’s close enough to hear the sharp, wet gasps in the boy’s throat. Close enough to feel the way the world tilts around this broken shape curled in on itself. He kneels down beside him - not too close, not touching - just near enough that the kid will know he’s not alone.

The Hero stiffens sharply at the sound of movement, like he hadn’t noticed anyone was there. Then he glances sideways, eyes rimmed red and glassy, but there’s no surprise in his expression. Just exhaustion. That deep, soul-worn kind that nothing can fix.

Time meets his gaze with something steady. Something patient. He doesn’t look away, even when the kid does.

After a long silence, the Hero speaks, his quivering voice barely above a whisper.

"...I don't know if I can do this anymore."

Time follows his gaze back to the Castle. To the twisted skeleton of towers and walls, scorched and crumbling, looming over the land like a ghost that refuses to die.

Time nods once. It’s all he can manage. Because what do you say to that? What words could make up for what’s gone? When you did everything you could, and it still wasn’t enough?

- - -

Chapter Text

When Warriors and Wind saw Time flit past, they both immediately - yet quietly - got to their feet, extracting themselves from the other peacefully sleeping Heroes. It was pure luck that the pair couldn't sleep, and the two naturally gravitated towards eachother - the aftermath of fighting in a war together. Sure, Wind was close with the others - it was hard to not be close with them, but Wars would always be his big brother. And Time, no matter how old, would forever be his little brother. No doubt the Captain felt the same. 

So, when Time strode through the trees, rain-slicked and rigid, eye cold and unblinking, it was like a blade slicing through fog, silent and certain. Wind looked back at the resting group, then up at Wars, who's already strapping his sword to his back.

"Where's that guy going?"

The Sailor mutters, rubbing at his face. He glances at his sword laying askew in the grass, then decides to not even bother with it. Warriors was - arguably - the best swordsman in the Chain. Wind'll be fine. Maybe. 

Without a second to waste, Wars stalks off. The Captain moves with a sort of grace and certainty that comes only from years of surviving chaos. He doesn’t look back - he doesn’t have to. Wind is like his shadow, always there, always reliable - even if he's just fourteen.

"Stop."

Warriors murmurs, holding out an arm that Wind walks straight into, giggling quietly. No way was he about to let Wars have a mysterious, hero-like moment. Never, if he had any say in it. The Captain sucks his teeth at him, before pointing ahead, through the pouring rain. As Wind squints in the general direction of Wars' finger, he makes out not one...but two figures in the distance. One's obviously Time, but... - oh. The new guy. Sigh. You'd think the rain would help people sleep. Obviously not, since the four of them were awake.

"Think they're okay?"

"Hmm. I don't see - no. Something's wrong. You saw that? Kid just sorta...gave up."

Wind squints even harder, the gusty air and freezing water doing absolutely nothing to help him see. But, years of sailing have helped train his eyes to pierce through storm and spray, to spot the sliver of hesitation in the Old Man's step as he advances toward Hero guy.

"Should we go help?"

Warriors shakes his head, wiping rain out of his eyes.

"Nah. Time’s got it under control. Besides, the Hero doesn’t really like - what was that?"

Wind looks around, whining and flails his hands, like he’s flicking off water.

"Stoooop! You're scaring me!"

The Sailor tugs on Wars' scarf, still looking around. Fuck the Triforce of Courage, those creepy ass spider eye things were actually the stuff of nightmares. Seriously, the beeping, and the laser, and the lights, and - the thing just isn't pleasant to encounter. Or even just look at.

"That monster from before, it's right there. But, it's blue. I wonder if it's peaceful?"

Before Wind can even raise a hand to smack this idiot, he's already trudging through the trees. Of. Fucking. Course. The one time he doesn’t bring his sword, Warriors insists on self-destruction. But, there's no way he's going back. If he could actually find his way back to camp, now, that'd be a whole different story.

Just up ahead, Time and the new guy remain still - too still. The Captain seems to pick up on this, and halts, dead in his tracks. Wind nudges Wars, hard.

“Wait - why aren’t they moving?”

“Because they’re smarter than you. The thing might still be dangerous, and this is the Hero's home base. He knows more about this than you do.”

“Rude.”

Wars narrows his eyes.

“Look. The thing's light isn’t red. Not yet. But, I think - if it sees us, maybe that's what triggers the thing to attack…?”

The air grows thick with tension. The rain isn’t loud anymore. It’s whisper-quiet now. The kind of quiet that presses against your ears and makes your heartbeat feel obnoxious.

Then -

Clank.

Thud.

Clank.

It’s moving. And not away.

Wind’s hand shoots out to grab Wars’ sleeve.

“Dude. Dude! I think it’s going toward them. Do we - do we do something?!”

The Captain doesn’t answer right away. He’s watching Time closely. And the Old Man? He’s not even flinching. He leans in, as the Hero mutters something into his ear that Wind can't make out.

The new guy...he’s about to break.

“...Kid’s gonna run,” Wars mutters.

And just like that - yup.

The new guy bolts, but, he drags Time with him, so... a win is a win. They don't go toward the thingy. Not away either. Just... sideways. Directly across its line of sight.

The machine jerks. That awful screech kicks in. Its eye goes red. The laser charges. Wars is already moving. Sword drawn, rain spraying behind him in a blur of gold and blue.

The kid hasn’t moved an inch. Time races to help Warriors, and the two fight a losing battle. The thing is way too overpowered for its own good. Wind has half a mind to go kick this idiot just watching, swaying on his feet in the middle of the field. Wait...oh, shit!

The Sailor races over, right on time, catching the guy, and holding him in his lap. No brain matter will be splattered today, thank you. Unlike his usual freaky-deaky episodes, his creepily dead-looking eyes are open - even if they're only half-lidded.  

"Uhh. Hi."

Wind mutters, because what. What do you say to a guy who's probably not even seeing you, who thinks you're a figment of his imagination? 

The guy coughs once, looking up at Wind like he's a million rupees. Weird, but he'll roll with it. What was even weirder, is the fact that the guy actually spoke. Raspy, and barely there, but he talked.

"...Princess..Zelda...don't."

He pauses to cough.

"Don't...put me.. in....let - let me..."

His eyes roll back. Okay... Wind was pretty sure he just witnessed this guy die in his arms, but the rise and fall of his chest said otherwise. 

Chapter Text

None of them knew what it was.

Not Time, not Warriors. Not even the vet, who’d cataloged more ancient artifacts than any of them.

It wasn’t magic. That was the first unsettling part.

There had been no spell cast, no divine hum or aura. It was silent death—ruthlessly mechanical. It had moved with purpose, with logic. That was the second unsettling part.

It hadn’t even noticed them at first. Just—targeted the boy. The hero. The kid.

And that was the most unsettling part of all.

---

Back at the clearing, Warriors paced.

The boy had been cleaned up as best they could. Hyrule had lit another fire. Legend stood guard, mostly silent, glaring into the treeline as though daring another one of those abominations to try its luck. Wind refused to leave the kid’s side, still bristling like a wet cat.

Warriors didn’t blame him.

Because the kid didn’t look like a warrior. Not like the rest of them. He was too thin, too pale, too…young, under the grime. But there were burns down his arms. Scars. Muscle-memory beneath the surface. And when he'd collapsed, it hadn't been a graceful warrior’s fall. It was the kind of collapse you only saw after someone ran far beyond their limit and expected to die doing it.

“He knew what it was,” Warriors said quietly. Time looked up. “That machine. He knew. He wasn’t surprised. He didn’t scream. He didn’t flinch. He stared it down.”

Time said nothing, just pressed a cloth against the side of the kid’s face, wiping away dried blood. His hands were steady. His brow furrowed.

“He knew it was going to kill him,” Warriors continued. “And he didn’t move. Not until you did.”

Still, Time said nothing.

“He’s not one of us,” Warriors finally muttered. “He’s not like us.”

That finally got a reaction.

Time looked up, eye sharp. “He’s one of us. You saw how he held that sword.”

“Yeah, and I’ve also seen dead men rise when they had something left to fight for,” Warriors bit back. “This kid? He wasn’t fighting for his life. He looked ready to die.”

They both turned to look at him then, the boy lying by the fire.

Still unconscious. Still quiet.

Still breathing.

---

A low whistle drew their attention. Legend, standing near the tree line, had kicked something half-buried in the mud.

“What is it?” Time called.

Legend bent down, grunting as he tugged the object free. It was a sphere, rusted but clearly forged—burnt blue lights ringed the top, flickering weakly. A soft whine came from inside, like it was trying to wake up.

“Same metal as the thing from earlier,” he called back. “You think it’s some kind of weapon?”

Warriors walked over, frowning. “If it is, it’s broken. Look at that wiring. It’s been through hell.”

“Well, it’s definitely from this world,” Legend muttered. “Whatever this world is.”

Time knelt beside Wild again. Wind looked up at him, face pale and eyes puffy from lack of sleep.

“He’s still not waking up.”

Time didn’t answer.

Because Wild’s hand was twitching.

Only slightly—but enough.

---

Later, just as dawn started to bleed into the horizon, Warriors found himself seated beside the hero’s bedroll, watching.

He wasn’t sure what drew him there. He didn’t like feeling useless. But something about this boy—it crawled under his skin.

It was in the way he moved. How he fought. Like every breath was borrowed.

“Who are you?” Warriors asked the unconscious form.

There was no answer.

But Wind, from the other side of the camp, whispered, “A survivor.”

---